Actual Grapes

This is my Mom, Olga Butler Hopper, demonstrating that she could grow actual edible grapes 

outside of her retirement condominium, where they didn't approve of gardening! 

She also had a small apricot tree, which bore fruit every year. The space she used 
was supposed to be an enclosure for garbage cans. 

I don't remember who took this picture, maybe one

of my many siblings, could have been me!

OLD

Along Claremont Avenue the stores are closing.

The streetlights have just remembered to come on, and the first

faint stars. In the pharmacy the old man

leans behind the counter in the middle of those

well-stocked shelves as it gets dark outside.

Only a few shapes cross the window, Now and again

a young face glances in with a look that says

old man, you're past it, as if he were the enemy.

Across the street, the bus stop with its huge old oak

that was here even before him.

The bench under it: he remembers being young there, with a girl.

No one sits there anymore, its gone

ice-cold in the shadows, almost invisible.

The young kids waiting for the bus would rather stand

at the edge of the curb, under the streetlamp

as the cars go by. There's that look in their eyes.

They want to see who's in them.

Roo Borson

The Whole Night Coming Home; poems by Roo Borson,

McClelland and Stewart, Ltd. 1984, page 35.

My mother, above, lived to be 96 3/4, outdoing her own mother by 1/4 of a year! She was always a good example about aging, continuing Tai Chi into her 90's and keeping a lively mind. I didn't find the work of Roo Borson, until recently; now she is one of my favorites!